My Skin
by The Lady Avaritia
Summary: He isn't good. He isn't going to love her forever. He's played the part of the hero for too long, he's let things get too real. "She'll hate me now." Character Death.


**Title:** My Skin

**Rating: T**  
><strong>Spoilers: G<strong>eneral

**Characters**: Damon/Jeremy

**Summary: **He isn't good. He isn't going to love her forever. He's played the part of the hero for too long, he's let things get too real. Nevermore.

**Disclaimer: **disclaimed

**Author: **_Lady Avaritia_

It's one of those moments – a moment of perfect tranquility as the silvery light of the moon curls around the puffy darkness like liquid clouds of cigar smoke and the light of the stars is like some cruel and unusual torture as it splatters coldly on the parquet floor of the room.

And the room is just that – a room with a bed and a wooden floor and a wooden wardrobe, a place crawling with maggots, a place of decay.

Jeremy doesn't know what he's doing there, in this room which is not a room, but rather cage for Damon to lock himself in when he feels that it is too much. And the walls are white and clean, but if he stares hard enough, Jeremy can see the outlines of liquor bottles slammed against the cold cement.

He can imagine it, now, Damon's long fingers curled around the cold glass, his arm arching back, muscles rippling under the unmarred skin, the bottle slams against the wall with a shattering crescendo of glass and it explodes in a million little pieces and they rain on the ground, clatter down like shards of useless mortality and Damon falls to knees and lets them ebb into his flesh and bleeds, bleeds…

The sound of the shower stopping shakes Jeremy out of his thoughts and he turns towards the bathroom. If the bed is big enough for a small orgy, the bathroom can hold three separate small orgies and still have place for a free bar. Damon walks out, dripping with water, stark naked, but not vulnerable. Jeremy studies him curiously. The vampire doesn't acknowledge his presence, doesn't attempt to cover himself as he strolls leisurely towards the wardrobe.

Jeremy takes that as a silent invitation to stare on ahead, so he stares. Damn is beautiful, with his lean frame and tight muscles packed under soft cold skin.

'I want to paint you,' he says on a whim. It comes out hoarsely, and the boy licks his full soft lips.

Damon has turned around now, to study him with a curious expression.

'Shouldn't little kids be in bed?' he asks, but his voice lacks its usual acid tone.

'Elena told me to check on you. She said you guys had a fight.' Immediately he knows it was the wrong thing to say as Damon's muscles tighten and his eyes narrow to thin slits.

'Tell Elena that her ill-meant concern is unnecessary. I'm a big vampire; I know how to take care of myself. And tell her than if she wants to say something, she shouldn't send tempting vampire bites.'

'I'm wearing my ring,' Jeremy says, though he has no idea why. Damon can see it for himself.

'Is that an invitation to hurt you?'

Jeremy thinks about it, mulls it over in his pretty little mortal head. Damn can hurt him, no doubt. There's something tempting in that thought and adrenalin rushed through Jeremy's young body. Damon isn't Anna or Vicky or Bonnie Tyler or any other boy or girl. Damon is not human. And with Damon Jeremy knows where he stands – he is food and entertainment, a toy, a means to an end, and a way to hurt Elena without hurting her.

'Well?' the vampire growls and his eyes scream "Say yes, say yes, say yes!" there's something desperate in that, something desperate in the way Damon is just aching to hurt somebody, anybody, even if it's Jeremy, who is just sixteen and human and Elena's.

'Yes,' Jeremy whispers. 'Hurt me.'

Damon stiffens, freezes right there and stares. There's a thin blue vein. If he bites that, Jeremy will die. He'll be back, so who cares? He can hurt the boy as much as he wants. His frozen heart clenches as icicles dig into it and Damon stalks towards the boy. He slams the door behind him closed and shoves the fragile human body against it. He kisses those sweet warm lips hungrily as his hands roam over the boy's clothed body and tear apart the fabric that covers all that perfect white skin, like a canvas for him to paint on.

Jeremy's closed his eyes and fell entirely at the mercy of the vampire as he felt cold thin lips press sweetly on his neck.

'Last chance to back away, you sixteen year old human,' Damon growls in his ear.

'Hurt me,' Jeremy repeats his plea from before, 'Hurt me until I am broken.'

'And then more,' Damon promises as he sinks elongated fangs in the soft flesh and tastes the sweet human blood, the life of a boy. His fingers find Jeremy's hand. He intertwines them, gives them a squeeze and then slips the ring off. Jeremy's eyes shoot open and widen and there's nothing he can do.

Damon pulls back as he stares at the body on the floor and somehow he can't bring himself to connect it to Elena's little brother.

There's that. The final straw, him proving his point – he isn't human. He isn't good. He isn't going to love her forever. He's played the part of the hero for too long, he's let things get too real. Nevermore.

'She'll hate me now.'


End file.
